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CHAPTER THREE

“T hanks to you, I had to pledge men to Buckland’s cause whether or not I agreed with it.” De Lohr was rightfully seething. “What on earth possessed you to touch another man’s wife?”

Gart stood in the dark, dusty stables, silently and stoically taking a verbal lashing from his liege. He deserved it, he knew, but he didn’t regret his actions. Not one bit. De Lohr knew this, which was why he was so furious.

Gart Forbes was the best knight he had ever seen, and he had seen a lot of good men in his life. Many talented men had passed beneath his command or his brother’s command at one time or another. But Forbes was different– they didn’t call the man “Sach” without good reason. He was power, strength, cunning and brutality all rolled into one but, more than that, he was grossly unpredictable, as evidenced by the scene on the wall walk.

Gart could have easily snapped Buckland’s neck but he hadn’t– he just wanted to scare the man. Forbes had bouts of volatile fury but he was as cunning as a fox. He knew exactly what he was doing when he wrapped his hands around Buckland’s throat.

“I did not touch her, at least not in the manner you are suggesting,” Gart told him. “I swear upon my oath that we were simply talking.”

David gazed at him a moment, trying to read the unreadable face, before letting out a heavy sigh.

“I believe you,” he said, with less anger than he had been exhibiting earlier. “But Buckland has used this entire circumstance into blackmailing me for support.”

“Blackmailing?”

De Lohr nodded with some disgust. “If I provide him with four hundred men, he will not have you thrown in jail,” he said, throwing up his hands. “I have no choice. Unless I want to lose my best knight, then I must support him. I hope you liked France because you will be heading back there shortly.”

The last sentence was spoken with some irony. Gart stared at de Lohr for a long moment before breaking down into a puzzled, disgusted expression. He just shook his head and turned away, pacing over to his charger. The beast was tethered in a far stall because he was so vicious, but with Gart, the black and white steed was as tame as a kitten. The animal nickered softly as Gart approached and began stroking the big neck, giving it an affectionate slap.

“My apologies, my lord,” he finally said. “It was not my intention to put you in an awkward position.”

De Lohr sighed with regret. “What were you doing with her alone up on the battlements? Did you not stop to think that it was a compromising position to say the least?”

Gart shook his head. “We were speaking,” he reiterated. “I have not seen her in twelve years, this lovely young girl who was the sister of my best friend. Seeing her… it is as if I am seeing him again. I simply wanted to speak with her. Perhaps old memories are clouding my judgment but I do not believe so. We did nothing wrong.”

De Lohr nodded his head in resignation. “Even so, you are not the one who will ultimately suffer in all of this. It will be her. Buckland is a vicious fool with a mean streak in him. She will be lucky if he does not beat her senseless for this.”

Gart knew that but it didn’t help the raging fury he felt, starting in his toes and rising up through his big body. By the time it reached his head, his face was red and he was sweating. De Lohr caught his expression and he put his hands up as if to stop the building tide. He knew that look well.

“There is nothing you can do about it,” he told him sternly. “Your interference is what caused all of this in the first place. Had you simply walked away….”

“He struck her,” Gart cut him off. “Could you have stood by while he did that?”

David rolled his eyes. “She is the man’s wife, Gart. He can do with her as he pleases.”

“Even assault her?”

“Aye, even assault her.”

“You did not answer my question. Could you have stood by and watched him beat her?”

De Lohr eyed him, finally shaking his head after a moment. “Nay,” he admitted, looking away. “But it is different with me. I am a man of rank and you are a mere knight. What you did, in most circles, would land you in the vault for the rest of your life.”

Gart’s jaw ticked dangerously. His face was still red and sweating, never a good sign. “I will not let him take out his anger on her. I cannot.”

De Lohr threw up his hands. “You have no choice,” he said. “Gart, I will send you home this night if you cannot control yourself. You are already in enough trouble. Any more from you and I may not be able to placate Buckland. He would throw you in jail and bury the key.”

Gart didn’t reply. Anything more out of his mouth would get him in deeper trouble. De Lohr was only trying to help him and he knew it.

There was a big pile of dry hay on the other side of his charger, stacked there by the grooms. He made his way over to the hay and plopped down into it, lying back against the clean, scratchy stuff. Folding his hands over his chest, he closed his eyes.

David watched him a moment, knowing that Gart was doing what he needed to do to calm down and stay on an even keel. Without another word, he quit the stable for his own quarters in the keep, a small room that Buckland had allocated to him.

Even as de Lohr made his way through the cold, bright night towards the distant keep, he knew that this was not the end of it. He could feel it. Gart felt as if he were protecting his best friend’s sister and unable to process that the fact she was another man’s wife took precedence.

David wondered what horrors awaited them come the dawn.

*

Gart awoke to three little faces staring at him. Startled, he sat up, hay stuck to his back and arms. It was just growing light outside, the sky in shades of pinks and blues as the sun pierced the veil of night. It was cold in the stable as the animals began to stir, hungry for their morning meal. Gart rubbed the sleep from his eyes as Romney, Orin and Brendt gazed back at him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked them, shaking the sleep from his mind.

The boys were not particularly well dressed against the cold and Romney looked particularly pale, which concerned him. They all looked a little lost. Gart also noticed something else– without all of the white powder on him, Romney’s ashen face bore a striking resemblance to his long-dead uncle. The mirror image was uncanny.

“We are sorry we tried to rob you yesterday,” Romney said somberly.

Gart rested his arms on his up-bent knees. “You did not rob me. I did not have anything for you to steal.”

Romney and Orin looked at each other, bewildered. “We tried to rob you,” Romney looked back at Gart. “Mother told us to apologize.”

Gart thought on that a moment, studying Romney. More and more, he could see Erik in the boy, even down to the expressions on the child’s face. He couldn’t help but think how thrilled Erik would have been with his three nephews.

“I see,” he said. “Then your apology is accepted.”

Romney cocked his head. “She said that you and Uncle Erik were friends.”

Gart nodded. “We were,” he said, eyeing the brown-haired, blue-eyed boy. “In fact, I was just thinking that you look a good deal like him. He was a great knight.”

“Mother said he died in the Holy Land for Richard’s damn crusade.”

Gart fought of a smile. “She said that?”

Romney nodded solemnly. “She said it was damn foolish and damn stupid.”

Gart bit his lip to keep from smiling. “Your uncle was a great knight on the crusade,” he said. “We fought together for almost two years.”

“How did he die?”

Gart didn’t feel like smiling anymore and the grin faded from his lips. “A Saracen arrow pierced his helm,” he said quietly. “It lodged in his eye and it killed him.”

“Oh,” Romney looked thoughtful, distressed. “Did it hurt?”

“I would imagine so.”

Romney continued to look distressed as Orin and Brendt decided the charger was more worthy of their attention. Gart saw the boys moving towards it.

“Do not touch him,” he admonished. “He will stomp you.”

The boys drew back in fear, gravitating back towards their eldest brother. Romney was still looking at Gart.

“Since we are sorry that we robbed you, will you give us money anyway?” he asked.

Gart gazed steadily at the boy. “Why?”

“Because Mother needs a present.”

“Why?”

“She is unhappy.”

Gart’s good humor faded completely. “Why is she unhappy?”

Romney seemed to lose some of his confidence. He looked at Orin and Brendt, who gazed back at him with wide eyes. Suddenly, Orin rushed Gart and grabbed the neck of his wrinkled tunic.

“Becausth,” Orin had an extremely lazy tongue and a bad lisp. He yanked at Gart’s tunic and began hitting him with his little fists. “He did thisth… and thisth… and she cries.”

Gart put his hands on the lad to both steady him and pull him off. Even Romney moved forward to pull his violent brother away from the enormous knight. But Gart didn’t miss the gist of what the boy said. In fact, he began to feel the familiar fury build in his feet again and start to work its way up. She will be lucky if he does not beat her senseless for this . He wondered if de Lohr’s prophetic words had come true.

“Who?” he had Orin by the arms but he was looking at Romney. “Who made your mother cry?”

Romney wouldn’t look at him. He was more interested in pulling Orin away from the man. “Father,” he muttered. “He hits her and she cries.”

The slow build of fury began to gain speed. Gart could feel the sweat popping out on his forehead and he struggled to control the brewing anger.

“Did he hit her last night?” he asked quietly.

Romney shook his head. “Nay,” he replied, giving Orin a good yank and sending the boy off of Gart and onto his bum. “He did it this morning. She cried and cried.”

The rage reached Gart’s head and his cheeks began to turn red. “Where is your mother now?”

Romney shrugged, either losing interest with the conversation or afraid to say much more. He fidgeted uncomfortably. “In her bed,” he said. “Father is leaving for London. Will you give us money now so we can buy her a present?”

Gart stared at the little boy, feeling a great many emotions in his heart that he was unfamiliar with. He’d spent most of his life allowing only one emotion to infiltrate his mind, and that emotion was fury. It worked well for his purposes. The soldiers didn’t call him insane for no reason. They called him that because it was the truth.

But now he was feeling something more than fury. He was feeling great sadness and grief, feeling as if he had failed somehow. When he’d meant to protect Emberley, it seemed as if he’d only gotten her into more trouble. He had no reason to believe that the boys were lying to him and he muttered a silent prayer to Erik, begging the man’s forgiveness for what he had done. It was a struggle to keep a rein on what he was feeling.

“Where is your father?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as angry as he felt.

Romney shrugged. “In the hall,” he said. “I heard him tell people that he was leaving for London today to see the queen.”

Gart stood up from the hay pile, brushing pieces of hay off his arms and back as he went to the bags that were lodged against the wall next to his charger. The grooms began coming into the barn to feed and water the animals but he ignored them as he began to rummage through his bags. Although he wanted very much to go charging into the keep, he kept his cool. He knew that would only make the situation worse. He had to keep his wits about him. But he noticed as he dug through his bags, his hands were shaking.

As he rummaged through his possessions, he realized he had company. He glanced to either side and noticed that Romney was on one side of him while Orin and Brendt were on the other. They were watching him dig through his satchels with great interest. Surely the knight had many wonderful things in that dark and mysterious bag. Finally, they could stand it no longer.

Romney reached in and grabbed a strip of carefully rolled leather, pulling it out to look at it as Gart took it away. As he was distracted with Romney, Orin reached in and pulled out a very sharp razor. Gart snatched it before the boy could injure himself and told the boys not to stick their hands where they did not belong. As he packed away the razor and rolled up the leather strip, little Brendt literally climbed into the largest of his satchels.

He gleefully tried to bury himself in the clothing that had been carefully rolled up and packed. Gart removed the boy from his satchel but in doing so, it opened up the door for Orin to plunge head-first into another bag. Soon, Gart was occupied removing the boys from his bags rather than searching for clean clothes. He would remove one and another would take his place. He swore there were twelve children and not just three, so fast they moved. Finally, he stood up and spread his big arms.

“Cease,” he roared softly, jabbing a finger at Brendt, who was back in his satchel and trying to pull one of Gart’s enormous tunics over his head. “You– out. And stay out. All of you stay out.”

Brendt started to weep and Romney turned his big, blue eyes to Gart. “He wants the tunic,” he told him.

Gart waved his hands impatiently. “Fine,” he snapped without force, lifting the boy out of his bag. “He can take the tunic. But you other two– get out and stay out. I do not have time for this foolery.”

Dejected and scolded, Romney and Orin actually began to repack one of Gart’s bags. He looked at their sad faces and began to feel like an ogre for scolding them. But he didn’t apologize. He helped them replace what they had pulled out. With both bags repacked, he removed one carefully rolled-up tunic, removed his dirty tunic, put it back in his bag and then sealed everything up.

Meanwhile, Brendt had managed to pull the tunic he stole from Gart over his little blond head and was trying to walk with it. The tunic was far too long for him and he tripped, laughing as he wallowed in the dirt. Romney and Orin giggled at him and Gart couldn’t help but crack a smile as the lad tried to get back to his feet without tripping again. He couldn’t quite seem to manage it, which sent Romney and Orin howling with laughter. Even Gart was snorting, his gaze moving over the three boys. They were good boys even if they were mischievous. Erik would have been proud. Gart was starting to realize what Erik’s mother and father must have gone through when Erik and Gart were into mayhem. Now, he understood.

Pulling the fresh tunic over his head, he proceeded to reclaim his armor. The boys watched with great interest as he pulled on his mail coat, his hauberk, and proceeded with pieces of plate armor that were still fairly rare. He wore great, well-crafted plate armor on both forearms that bore the crest of de Lohr. He also had a big piece that fit over his chest and back, hung from his shoulders by big leather straps. Romney inspected the piece curiously and even tried to lift it, but Gart discouraged him. It was an expensive piece and too heavy for the boy to play with. Leaving the chest piece in the stable next to his bags, Gart headed out into the dusty courtyard.

Dunster Castle was a massive place built in a long, rectangular configuration which positioned the stables on the far north side, away from the keep but near the kitchens and the well. There were two blocks of stables and as Gart emerged from the block that extended on the northeast wall, he could see that there was great activity from the block lodged against the north wall.

Two chargers and several other horses had been brought out and were being prepared, as well as a big wagon that was being loaded down with goods. The animals were excited and their breath puffed up in great clouds in the cold morning air. Gart’s gaze lingered on the group, knowing it must be the baron’s escort to London. Just as he passed from the stable yards into the big bailey beyond, he caught sight of de Lohr heading towards him.

Gart was surprisingly in control as he and David came together. Romney, Orin and Brendt were clustered around Gart, following him like puppies, something that didn’t go unnoticed by de Lohr. He eyed the boys as he came upon Gart.

“Are you summoning your own army?” he asked.

Gart had no idea what he was talking about until he followed David’s gaze and saw the boys standing around him. He grunted.

“Do not let their small size fool you,” he told him. “They are brave beyond measure.”

David lifted an eyebrow at Romney. “I know,” he said. “They were unafraid to rob me yesterday when I entered the keep.”

Gart lifted an eyebrow at Romney, who looked both fearful and defiant. “Mother only said we had to apologize to you. She did not say we had to apologize to everyone.”

Gart just shook his head, resigned. “What did you steal from the baron?”

Romney’s brow furrowed deeply. “Not much.”

David fought off a grin. “I gave them a pence each to let me pass,” he said. “I was afraid for my life.”

Gart’s eyes narrowed at Romney. “You will give him back his money. That is not a request.”

Romney was deeply displeased. “It is upstairs.”

“Go and get it. Now .”

The boys darted off, scattering like frightened chickens at Gart’s deep and growling tone. They weren’t used to such commands but the instinct for survival bade them to obey it. David waited until they were well away before looking at Gart with a grin.

“Brave and bold boys,” he commented. “I thought it was quite humorous.”

“Did they hit you with a stick?”

“They tried. I paid them before they could whack me.”

“Yet I did not,” Gart wriggled his eyebrows. “They were not afraid to attack me when I would not pay their demands.”

David snorted. “I would like to have seen that. The mighty Gart Forbes being set upon by three small bandits. Those children did what grown men are afraid to do.”

Gart shrugged, his gaze trailing up to the enormous dark-stoned keep to the right. “Their mother interrupted what would have surely been a bloodbath,” he said. “Speaking of their mother, I am told that the earl beat her this morning.”

David’s smile faded and he sighed heavily. “That is why I have come to find you,” he said quietly. “Knowing how you feel, I wanted you to hear the news from me.”

“Did he kill her?”

David shook his head sadly. “From what I can gather, she barricaded herself in her children’s room last night after the incident on the wall to avoid her husband’s wrath,” he said quietly. “My chamber is on the floor below theirs and I could hear him banging at the door a good portion of the night. Then it faded away until dawn when, apparently, one of her sons unbolted the door and the earl was lying in wait. He locked the children out of the room, including the crying two-year-old girl, and proceeded to beat his wife. I could hear the woman screaming. By the time I reached the floor, I found four crying children staring back at me. Even the servants were crying. So I took everyone down to the hall, made sure the children were tended, before returning to the chamber. By the time I returned, all was silent and the earl was just emerging. He told me that if I wanted to remain a trusted ally, I would leave well enough alone.”

By this time, Gart was the familiar shade of red. The veins on his neck and temple were standing out, throbbing. De Lohr knew that look. It was always the calm before the storm.

“Did you see Lady Emberley?” Gart asked through clenched teeth. “Is someone at least tending to her injuries?”

David shook his head. “The earl will not let anyone near her,” he explained, sickened. “He says she must be punished. The servants are too afraid to go against his wishes and I cannot do it because he would not only break his alliance with my brother but more than likely accuse me the same way he accused you. The man has a warped and dangerous mind.”

Gart couldn’t stand it any longer. He began to walk towards the keep. David reached out and grabbed him.

“Wait,” he snapped softly. “The earl is in the hall and if he sees you….”

Gart turned on him, his face red with rage. “I am going to see to Lady Emberley’s health and well-being, and her husband be damned,” he snarled. “Her brother was my best friend and I will not….”

De Lohr put up a silencing hand. “Listen to me,” he cut him off. “I knew you would not be stopped but I also know that if Buckland sees you, there is no telling how volatile this situation will become. Do you not understand that your actions have brought this about? What do you think will happen if you do not understand your place and continue this behavior? It appears as if you are attempting to come between the baron and his wife.”

Gart was so angry that he was sweating, his big hands working much in the same manner they did right before he plunged into battle. He was starting to reach the point that every man feared, the insanity that would soon overtake him. It was at that point that he would start ripping heads from bodies, Buckland’s included, and to hell with the consequences.

“I am not trying to come between the baron and his wife,” he said in a manner that suggested the whole idea ridiculous.

“It appears that way. Can you swear to me that there is nothing more to this than the concern of an old friend?”

“I can swear it.”

De Lohr sighed softly. He wasn’t sure if he believed him, given the fact that the man was acting in a way he had never seen before, but he would not dispute him. At least, not yet. “Very well,” he said quietly. “But you must show restraint, Gart. This situation is delicate to say the least.”

“I am going to see to her,” Gart repeated, his jaw gnashing. “I must see what has happened. If you cannot understand that, then I cannot explain it to you any more than I already have.”

David just shook his head, tightening his grip on Gart’s arm. “I understand,” he lowered his voice. “I also understand that whatever I say, you will do as you please.”

“That is a fair assessment.”

David sighed in resignation. “Then we must act carefully. You and I will enter the keep and I will distract the baron so you can slip to the upper floors to tend the lady. Meanwhile, I am going to tell Buckland that I have sent you away and hopefully that will appease him. But in doing so, you need to make every effort to stay out of the man’s way until he leaves for London. If you hear him coming, hide or all will be lost, including his trust in me. Is that clear?”

Gart was agreeable with the plan for the most part. “It is,” he replied. “My charger and possessions are still here, however. What if the earl sees them?”

David shook his head. “He would not know your possessions or charger from the next man’s. He does not seem particularly bright or observant.”

Satisfied, Gart could feel himself calming now that there was a plan, something that would enable him to see to Emberley. Taking a deep breath, he struggled to calm himself. “And once the baron has left Dunster? What then?”

David shrugged. “You can remain here if you wish, at least until I send for you. I suspect we will be mobilizing for France in the next three or four weeks, so be prepared. If you leave Dunster, go back to Denstroude because that is where I shall look for you.”

Gart nodded, the dull, red tone of his face fading to a normal healthy color. David eyed the man one last time, just to make sure he was going to do as he was told, before finally nodding his head.

“Very well,” he turned for the keep. “Let us make our move.”

Gart was right behind him.